Caught in the Rain
by rummybones
Summary: The normalcy at Third Street Elementary is thrown off when a tragedy happens to one of their students. How does someone help when they see another growing up too fast and under the worst possible conditions? Read Authors Note first please.
1. Chapter One

A/N: So, this is a kind of impulsive and impromptu story that plans on being very short, maybe just a few, but longer, chapters. A long time ago, as in more than ten years ago, I used to watch this show everyday and wrote some very awful fics about it (which I proceeded to read and embarrassed myself doing so… I was not that great of an author at 12/13...) until just the other night when I had a very random thought about it. Which then lead to me binging on old episodes and now here I am. Being the melodramatic person I am, of course I need to make a delightful children's show get pretty dark and grim. I guess this can be seen as a kind of coming-of-age story under bad circumstances, and is loosely based on events that happened in my younger years. If anyone even visits the RECESS pages any more, don't hate me too much for taking a cute show to some dark places and throw me a review if you have time. And since this story involves a bad car accident, prepare yourself for a descriptive scene of that.

Story obviously goes way off course the original series, little bit of an AU. I don't know anything about one of the main character's family or last name so I took a lot of liberty with that. And I (obviously) don't own the series, but give the owners a pat on the back for one my my favorite childhood shows!

~rummybones

Chapter One.

It was another typical day at Third Street Elementary School before the ring of the first bell. Kids were walking in from their neighborhoods, buses rumbled in and out, and everyone tried to stay outside on the lawn as long as possible before the bell signaled their sentences inside. The past two school days the week before had been overcast and gloomy, threatening to downpour on their valuable recess time, so the sun in the unclouded sky brought a bit of cheer and optimism to the young students. They were chatting and already anticipating what the game plan at recess would be that day.

Amongst them was TJ Dettweiler, who could call himself the unspoken leader of his almost notorious and lovable group of six friends in the fourth grade. Today they all sat in a circle facing in, all too serious expressions on their face as they held their precious game boys. They were hunched over them and trying to keep what they held a secret, knowing that Randall could be on the lookout for any games to be confiscated.

"Alright boys and girls, the time is now." TJ said seriously. "I've got the goods."

He reached into his pocket and slowly withdrew what he found. It was a little black cord, and everyone 'ahhed' with amazement. "The coveted and rare game link game boy cord! The likes which have not been seen in our town in months!" MIkey gasped.

"So, who did you have to suck up to to get that?" Spinelli asked while snatching it for examination as if it could be a fake.

"Well," TJ shrugged, "Since all the high schoolers bought them all, I just had to do the paper route for my sisters boyfriend. Not that big of a deal, just waking up at five AM every morning for two weeks and slinging papers at a hundred houses…"

"Well cool! Now we can finally trade and battle our Pokemon!" Gus exclaimed and powered up his Game Boy. "I've got a Kangaskhan, looking for an Alakazam!"

As everyone blurted out how it was an unfair trade, Gretchen put hers away in her bag and instead pulled out a mathematics book. "I am fine with what I have. Although the idea of forcing small animals to fight each other until the point of unconsciousness is a rather carnal idea of a game, I already found a way around their leveling algorithms and have a full team of six at level one hundred. So… it is only a quick and easy demise now."

"But that's not the point of the game," Vince retorted, which didn't get much a response. "Me against TJ first!"

"No way," Spinelli said and started plugging the cord in, "I've had a bone to pick with Mikey, fire against grass all the way!"

But then it was immediately snatched out of her hands by Vince. "I called dibs last week!"

"Guys, guys!" TJ yelled as he watched the cord roughly be grabbed and handled, "Easy on the merch!"

But the final person who snatched the Game Link cord was none other than Ms. Finster, who had somehow managed to arrive and tower over their group in seconds. She smirked with the cord in her hand, and immediately put it in her pocket. "No electronic games, kiddos! These will fit nicely in the confiscated items drawer! Randall, help a girl out."

With defeated moans, they had no choice but to hand over the game boys, with Randall right behind the teacher and snickering to himself. TJ heard Ms. Finster mumble something along the lines of technology and kids these days then she announced to them in a way that was way too satisfied that they can retrieve their games from the Principal after school.

Gus groaned, just as the bell rang, and stood up to dust dirt from his pants. "Oh man, my dad just got me that as a present last week. I hope they don't tell."

"I hope those sadistic teachers don't erase my game," Spinelli growled and they all began getting their things together to go to class.

Gretchen managed a little smile. "But I still have mine!"

That prompted the others to immediately ask if they could borrow it for recess, because this Pokemon craze was getting a little out of control for everybody in the elementary school, and headed down the hallway to their fourth grade classroom with Mrs. Grotke.

The six entered into the room already full with chattering students, who were sharing what they had done over the weekend, TJ and his friends still teasing Gretchen. No one seemed to notice Ms. Grotke at first, who stood behind her desk with a rather pale expression and nervous hands. No one seemed to pay any mind, even a couple airplanes whizzing close to her but there was no reaction for now. It wasn't until the second bell rang that students finally calmed down, and TJ turned around in his desk to look towards the black board. Ms. Grotke timidly cleared her throat, and said in a very unconvincing way, "Good morning, students. I hope that you have had a great weekend!"

There was something off with the way her voice and clasped hands trembled, and any sense of a fun atmosphere quickly left the room.

"Well, students," she began, "today is going to be a very different day for us. I am sorry to give you this news so soon in your day, but after talking with other teachers, we decided that it would be best to let the students know and be involved."

TJ managed to look out of the corner of his eye at Spinelli, who looked just as confused and apprehensive. Mrs. Grotke took in another deep breath and said with a slightly shaking voice, "Events like these are hard, and I'm not sure what conversations you have had with your parents in situations such as these, but the faculty, and parents who knew those involved, think that it is best to let you all be a part of this process… on Friday afternoon following classes, one of our students at Third Street was involved in an automobile accident."

TJ blinked at first. Like a car accident? He didn't understand what was happening, and all of the fourth graders shared shocked glances but no one spoke. He then realized that their teacher was trying to blink back tears. "He was a student of mine once, and an upperclassmen to you now but I know he's known around the playground by everyone. Robert Porter."

Who?

"Oh my gosh is he, like, okay?" An Ashley blurted out.

But TJ didn't know the name. Another kid piped up, "Robert Porter?"

"Oh, right," Ms. Grotke said and cleared her throat, "Bob? I think you all call him King Bob?"

There was just stunned silence. TJ could only look forward and felt his stomach do a weird flip. King Bob. In a car accident. His first thought was - but things like that don't happen to kids. Another flip, and then he realized what his teacher was saying. Did someone he know… die? His mind instantly raced to every interaction that he had with this kid and he couldn't believe this. It had to be some bad joke.

"Yes, Ashley A., he is fine. I believe so, for now," Mrs. Grotke replied almost uncertainly. "However, what this young boy is going to go through is something I believe we should all help with. In the car accident, his parents were there. And, they… didn't make it."

At that point the tears in her eyes welled up and she choked quietly, "and they were good people."

It was just stunned silence. It was supposed to be just another day at school, right? What was happening?

But their teacher raised a hand and wiped her tears away, as if suddenly remembering it was not the place for this display, and she cleared her throat shakily again. "So, today will be a day for discussions, and no lessons. I have supplies so that we can make get well cards and anything else you would like to send to your peer while he is hospitalized. Today is for solidarity and learning to come together in tragedies such as this."

As if trying to busy herself, she immediately went to her desk and started awkwardly fumbling with the craft supplies for the cards that they were going to make. Still the room was so unlike they had ever seen it - no whispers, no pencils clicking, or even the sound of chewing gum. Then TJ realized that Mikey was holding his hand up. It took a moment for the teacher to notice as she busied herself.

"Yes, MIkey?"

"Is he going to be okay? When can he come back to school?"

Mrs. Grotke blinked a few times. "Well, he needed to be airlifted, sweetie. He may not come back this school year. We can't know for sure."

"What does that mean?" Mikey stammered. He had big wet tears in his eyes.

The teacher seemed to have an internal debate, as if whether she could share what she knew. "Well, Mikey. When someone gets hurt badly, sometimes the local doctors don't have the resources to help. So a helicopter will come and take the patient to a different place where they can be taken care of better."

Gretchen made a weird sound as if she understood something more than the other kids. Phil, the red haired kid who sat behind TJ then raised his hand. "But where could something that bad happen in town? It's like 25 miles an hour everywhere!"

"The accident took place a little outside of town," Ms. Grotke replied, then added, "I would rather not… disclose too many details of the actual accident though. Would anyone else like to ask any questions? Or is there anyone else who feels as though they can contribute something to this conversation?"

The rest of the morning was spent working on the cards they were making each other. As she had promised, Ms. Grotke promised a very informal day and let everyone do as they please and push their desks together to make little groups. But considering the circumstances, not having lessons didn't make it a fun day. TJ stared down at his card, markers surrounding him and suddenly felt very sad. He had no idea what to write. Aside from the playground interactions with Bob being _King_ Bob, he had almost no idea who this person was, and he felt very guilty.

Vince seemed to see his internal debate and suggested softly, "I think all that matters is that he gets one. Don't over think it."

The classroom discussions were also very sobering and it was like some kind of taboo subject no one had ever thought to consider hung in the air. However, there was something about it that Mrs. Grotke had right, whether or not the kids knew it - there was some sense of solidarity. Ashley A., of all people, had volunteered to talk about the death of her grandfather that had just happened over the summer before fourth grade. How it made her feel, and how she was getting over it. She wasn't talking in her normal snotty tones, she seemed genuine and TJ thought how suddenly Ashley A. didn't seem like much of a little kid anymore. Mrs. Grotke visited every group and was comforting and honest and it did help a bit. She encouraged people to send their positive vibes in the direction of their injured student or consult 'any higher power that you follow'. But in the end, they were all just kids who were helpless and didn't know much of what to do.

Eventually the bell rang for first recess, and it was only the grades below fourth who ran out. As they walked blinking into the bright sun outside, Gretchen commented, "I guess they're just telling the grades that are fourth and up."

"I don't blame 'em," Vince muttered and they walked to the edge of the black top. "Suddenly kick ball doesn't sound so fun."

"Yeah," Gus said and sank into the grass. "I just want to go home and hang out with my parents now."

Spinelli looked over and saw the kids who were normally the King's 'guards' and 'advisors' awkwardly standing at the jungle gym talking quietly, and the empty throne at the top. "Poor guy. I hope he doesn't have to fall behind a grade."

"I don't know," Gretchen replied quietly, "It could be bad. The most common injury found in car crashes are back and neck injuries, and if he had to be airlifted, we can be talking about paralysis…"

It was when she realized that they were giving her slightly horrified looks, she gulped and realized, "But it's all very different when you're reading about it in a text book. I'm sorry guys. Sorry MIkey."

Mikey still had big tears in his eyes and was looking a little pale. TJ just didn't know what to say and played with the grass in his hands. He, too, just suddenly want to be with his parents. As if reading the thoughts of the students, they heard the intercom suddenly click on, and the voice of their principal, Mr. Prickley come on. Their principal sounded uncannily soft spoken today: "Good morning, students at Third Street Elementary. The faculty has come to the decision to allow for a half day to those who wish to leave early. Students may enter the office and call their parents to be driven home. Students who use the bus may leave with the consent of your parent. Those who wish to stay or do not have the means to leave early shall follow the normal class schedule and return to class at the end of recess. Everyone… take care."

The intercom clicked off and the six friends looked at each other and they all seemed to have the same thing in mind. They ran up and joined the large amounts of solemn looking students who were walking towards the office.

X

TJ had managed to catch a ride home with his mother who wasn't working, and found that he wasn't talkative. He had spent much of the day in his room, trying to read comics but not really concentrating, then realized just he needed to move around a little bit.

On his way out, he saw his mom getting things ready for dinner, and she eyed him as he walked into the kitchen. "Everything okay, Teej? You're looking a little out of it today, which is the opposite of what I'd expect from a half day!"

"Yeah Mom, I'm fine," he mumbled, "can I go on a bike ride before dinner?"

"I suppose," she answered, bending down to get a pan out of the oven. "But dinner's at six! Don't be late!"

Without another word he hopped out of the sliding door and found his bike, almost immediately taking off. He didn't have any particular destination in mind. Just sitting in that stagnant room of his with nothing happening was beginning to get to his head. He pedaled through at least ten blocks non stop and realized when he could barely breath, just how fast he was going and just how many stop signs he sped through. That last thought made him shudder, so he eased up and cruised through the neighborhood. He passed by his elementary school and looked on how empty and odd the playground looked at night.

TJ sighed. He stood by the chainlink fence for some time, trying to decide what was going on in his head. When a street light flicked on he knew that it was getting close to six and turned his bike around to pedal home. He passed by all of the houses he knew by heart in his neighborhood, having lived there since kindergarten, and finally made his way to the porch of his house.

He could hear his family talking in the dining room and made his way in, suddenly realising just how hungry he was, and the smell of his Mom's shephard pie was pretty tantalizing. He walked in and his sister, Becky, was also home, setting out plates at the table. "Hey, little bro."

TJ raised an eyebrow at the fact he wasn't called 'little monkey' or worse, and responded, "Well… hey there."

"Right on time!" his mom announced when she walked in carrying a giant cooking dish in her covered hands. "Okay, we're ready to eat! Becky, get your father, he can watch golf any other time than this."

They all sat down and being so informal, immediately started digging in. Becky started talking about the employee drama down at where she worked, and normally TJ would be finding ways to crack up at her high school friends, but his head was a little fuzzy as of that day. They asked her how school was, and before it got turn to ask their son, TJ decided to bring up what was on his mind.

"Hey, uh… Mom, Dad? Do you all wanna, like, do something this weekend? Like, as a family?"

He could hear the clink of their silverware fall and winced at himself. He could've been a little more smooth. "TJ Dettweiler, my brother," Becky began, "actually thinks that he's not too cool to hang out with his old mom and pop?"

"Becky!" their mother snapped, though it was clear she wasn't truly offended.

"Well, never mind then! If that's how you're going to be!"

"Of course we can!" their father chimed in while taking an overly huge bite of food. "What'd you have in mind?"

"Oh, whatever you want," TJ offered. "Maybe something out of town, this place does get just a liiittle old sometimes."

"Oh my God!" Beck suddenly said, as if that comment made her remember and making everyone jump. "You know what we got told in school today? Do you guys remember that Sheila Porter who used to go to school with me? She was like, the older girl who ran the yearbook club? Her parents got in an accident over the weekend."

TJ felt his stomach sink a bit. He felt himself suddenly wishing that they could talk about anything else. But it was such a small town. And then he felt guilty, here he was at a dinner table with his family thinking that while King Bob was… in whatever condition he was in. TJ heard his mom gasp, and his dad almost choked on his food. "Oh, my goodness. The Porters, are they _okay_?"

Becky gaped. "Oh. You… knew them? No, they're not. At all."

TJ moved his eyes from the table to see that his mother looked like she had been hit with something hard in the face, and his dad was focusing way too hard on the table cloth before him. "Well, we've talked to them. At PTA's, the grocery store… I don't think I could say they were close friends, but… oh my goodness. That's awful. What about the kids?"

Becky shifted uncomfortably. She didn't realize that they had actually known and talked to the parents of her friend. "Well, Sheila wasn't with them, she just got her own place and is doing the community college thing. But her little brother from the sixth grade was with them and had to be airlifted. Teddy from second period said he drove past the wreck when they were clearing it and the car was like… a crumpled up tin can."

There was a moment of silence. "You said sixth grade? Do you know this person, Theodore?"

TJ looked down at his plate, suddenly not hungry. "Yeah. Everyone does."

"Oh, honey," his mom suddenly cried and ran around the table to hold him, "that's why you had a half day isn't it, and you've been acting strange? And is that why you wanted to spend time with us this weekend?"

Not even prepared or knowing that it was going to happen, TJ suddenly burst into tears. It almost surprised him just as much as it shocked his older sister who froze, and his dad immediately circled the table and bear hugged his son as well, almost painfully. TJ then felt his older sister hugging too and it didn't help him stop and he just made an even uglier sound while he choked out, "I don't know why I'm crying... this… whomps..."

"It's okay, dear…" his mom comforted him. "We're not going anywhere, I promise."

"Yeah, you can't get rid of me either," his sister tried to laugh while hiding the sound of tears in her voice, too.

TJ finally settled down and wasn't able to look up, unable to tell if he was completely humiliated. He hadn't cried in front of his family in a couple years… but he did feel a little better. "I'm okay, now. You can eat. Don't worry."

They uncertainly let him go and slowly got back to their seats, his mom saying nice comforting things the whole time. That's when TJ told them about the day at school, and how he had never seen Ms. Grotke so upset, and the comment she made about KIng Bob's parents being good people. And that he had always kind of thought of King Bob being a bit of his friend. And that last part just made him feel a little worse. How you can you spend a little part of everyday with someone at recess but still not know what to write on a get well card for them?

They finished up their dinner and for the very first time in a long time all helped clear the dishes and clean and be an actual involved family. After watching a funny movie on TV together, TJ finally wandered up to his room and immediately threw himself on the bed.

He only had a few thoughts before going straight to sleep, and he just hoped his friend was okay.

x

 **A/N.** I hope that wasn't too painful. Chapter two coming out soon!


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two.

Before the last bell rang to signal the final school day of the week, "KIng" Bob had already managed to completely break his pen apart and put back together approximately 58 times in his last class. Usually, he was pretty good at paying attention, but today was an especially important day, and he was a little antsy. When the bell did finally ring, he was the first person up and was down the hall while everyone else had barely left their seats.

If it wasn't already obvious by his signature jersey and the hockey stick that he used as his 'scepter', King Bob was not only a hockey enthusiast, but a pretty good player as well. And today was an especially important day, because he got to try out for the town hockey team. Not the one he was already in, but the one for the ages between twelve and fourteen. Even though he tried not to let it show too much, it was important for the kids his age because it decided whether or not they would play while entering middle school. Hopefully, it would make the change a little easier. Not only that, but seeing as he was the school's king and kids were either too scared of him or were sucking up to him, he could finally be around actual friends. Friends that actually weren't afraid to joke with him and pretend to make fun of him. Unfortunately, friends that required forty-five minutes of driving to get to: the only ice rink in the area was the next town over, and none of them went to his school.

First he jogged out to the playground and climbed up the jungle gym to get his hockey stick (he wasn't allowed to take it inside), and then ran back to where he struggled to get his bag of hockey gear out of the locker… it had taken a lot of shoving and punching to get it inside. On his way rushing down the hall he passed by his two 'advisers', Jerome and Jeremy, and they tailed after him, talking quickly and way too officially trying to remind him of all of the Kingly duties awaiting him the following week. Bob just rolled his eyes. No wonder everyone thought he was so angry. He was constantly being annoyed.

"Guys, it's Friday, can't it wait?"

"Of course, your highness!" Jerome suddenly blurted and for a second it looked like he awkwardly considered taking a bow. Fortunately he didn't. "We'll report to you on monday!"

Like Bob said - lots of suck ups. As nice as it was to be spoiled by everyone and have kids bend over backwards to do what he wanted, he was ready to be around the friends on his team who didn't care.

He finally caught sight of his parents car near the buses and jogged over.

"Hey Bobby!" his mom yelled and waved enthusiastically from the passenger seat window, most likely in an attempt to embarrass him. Typical parent stuff.

"Mom, stop," Bob mumbled and ducked inside, but was fortunate to be one of those who kids who weren't completely mortified with their parents behavior.

"How was school?" his Dad asked, looking into the rear view mirror.

While his mom had lighter brown hair and almost startling green eyes, Bob took more after his dad, who still showed his Romani heritage with darker skin and jet black hair. They were both genuinely nice people who had made friends with a lot of the other students parents, but both had a good sense of humor. Bob shrugged, "Way too slow, I guess. Ready to get going though!"

"Is that the crown of yours you've got with you?" his mom asked with a smirk. " _King_ Bobby?"

Bob rolled his eyes but still managed a smile. "I can't help I was chosen into this destiny. Let's go! Is everything packed?"

The tryouts began Saturday morning, but him and his parents had a bit of a trip planned seeing how they barely left the town. First, while Bob would get to spend some much needed time with his friend Anthony and stay the night with him (Mario Kart binges were on the schedule), his parents would get to spend some time together at a nice restaurant and hotel. Then it was a full day of tryouts on Saturday and just generally exploring the city at night. Unfortunately his sister Sheila was beginning to understand the struggles of living on her own for the first time while working part time and going to the local community college. There just wasn't enough time for her to join, nut Bob was at least content to know that she would be able to look after his dog in the meantime.

They had been on the road for about 20 minutes when the rain finally started coming down. Bob had been minding his own business listening to music on his CD player while his parents talked about typical parent things - work, news, their circle of friends and family.

Outside of their hometown there really wasn't much to see, it didn't even hook up to an actual interstate until you were about an hour outside from where Third Street was. Bob was just fortunate that he didn't have to worry about getting a license for quite some time now, because he had seen his Dad with some road rage and it didn't look like a pleasant time at all. It didn't take long until his mom announced that she had to go to the bathroom and they stopped at some random restaurant (when Bob made a comment about 'just hold it' he was completely horrified of her response 'you try popping out two kids and holding it in'), where the parents got coffee and he got some soda to go. The rain finally let up and even the sun started coming back out.

Between the songs of the Led Zeppelin he was listening to, Bob managed to catch a couple words of his parents.

"Look at all this nonexistent traffic," his dad grumbled, "It's good to know my taxes paid for a totally unnecessary four lane highway."

"Says the person who complained about this being a two lane just last year" his mom added with a smirk.

Bob popped up behind them. "Can I just opt out of taxes when I grow up and live like a hermit?"

"Bobby sit back down and put your seat belt on!" his mom cried, giving him a light push back into his seat. "And what would you know about taxes anyway… you couldn't live without electricity for a day, I promise, so no being a hermit for you."

HIs dad gave a chuckle as Bob grumpily sat back down and put the buckle over him, putting his back to the door of the car. "I know a decent much about taxes, actually," he said matter-of-factly. "I suppose you haven't heard of the great bubble-gum tax of 1995 have you? It's quite over your heads…"

He caught his dad's eye in the rear view mirror who seemed very amused. "Is this Bobby or King Bob we're listening to right now?"

Just to be obnoxious, Bob slapped his crown helmet over his head and pronounced as officially as he could, "The bubblegum tax began in -"

The next thing happened in a series of seconds. First he heard a squeal of tires, a short shout from his Dad, and then it seemed like the world was caving in. Everything became loud sounds and blurs of vision for moments, the vague sensation of hot coffee and soda spilling everywhere and defying gravity. He heard sounds of metal on metal, something sharp hit him, and then everything went still and quiet.

Bob came to, and nothing made sense. He felt something hot dripping on his face, but it came from beneath him, and that's when he realized he was upside down. With a pathetic cough, and all his muscles aching, he managed to pull the helmet off of his head and hung for a moment. Realizing where he was took a moment to sink in. When he felt the hot liquid keep dripping on his face, he vaguely remembered - my parents coffee. He raised a hand and wiped at it, but his fingers came back red. Not even sure what to make of it, next he fumbled for the seat belt lock. He fell ungracefully and with a loud thud onto the ceiling of the car pebbled with shards of glass. "Mom… Dad…?"

Bob was crammed into an unusually tight space, and he tried to look up at the drivers and passenger seat. All he saw was a wall of mangled metal and plastic and glass. So they got out already, he managed to think, but his head was swimming. He found himself coughing like he got the wind knocked out of him, and his hand came back more red than it had before. His only thought was to find his parents. Using his arms, he grabbed what might've once been the frame above the back seat window and pulled himself forward. That's when he felt it. Looking down at his left side, he saw that there was something sticking out of his side at an angle that made his stomach lurch. And there was a lot of blood.

He just slurred a string of words that a sixth grader probably shouldn't know or use and kept pulling himself out, his injury surprisingly just small twinges of pain. Glass was biting into his hands and arms and he was aware it was making him bleed, but he needed to find his parents. The light was blinding. He made it maybe two steps before falling forward, taking in a sharp breath when his side hit the pavement. He was faintly aware of voices and doors slamming. On the ground he opened his eyes and saw, of all things, a purple high heeled shoe.

Oddly tired and shaking, he reached for it. It was his Mom's.

He rolled over. Leaving the car took all of the energy he had in him, and his thoughts were becoming blurred and vague… he found himself thinking that he had to give his mom her shoe. Laying with his head against the pavement and suddenly struggling just to breathe, he saw her. Bent and laying on the road. Everything was darkening and he could hear his heartbeat. In the approaching distance he was aware of voices:

"Oh my god, it's a kid!"

"Call 911!"

And there were hands trying to help him, but all he could do was mumble incoherently and hold the purple shoe.

Next he heard loud sounds of propellers and there were strange faces above him. Shining lights in his eyes, and shoving things over his mouth. Bob tried to raise a hand to push them away but found that his body wouldn't listen to him. There was shouting and the beeps of electronic equipment, then a roaring sounds and wind hitting his face. Sudden feelings of vertigo, like he was flying, then slipping away again.

xxx

 **A/N** : Sorry if it was a little graphic, but I'm trying to make things as realistic as possible. Despite things being based on a fictional show… ha. So if you're wondering about my thing with his dad being Romani, it's because I always remember King Bob having darker skin like he was bi-racial in the original episodes before the show randomly made him white. It's just how I envision him when I write. Don't think this is the end… even I wouldn't end a fic like that.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three.

TJ was glad that Mikey and Spinelli had managed to restrain the two second-graders, because he had just taken a small fist to the nose and was surprised at just how much it hurt. Spinelli restrained one of the little boys by the arms while trying not to hurt him, while MIkey effortlessly bear hugged the other boy still.

"What is this madness!" Mikey cried dramatically. "What has become of our playground and it's youths?"

"No king is what," Spinelli grunted while the little boy she held tried to flail and kick.

Luckily Ms. Finster didn't notice the commotion so the boys wouldn't be written up, but a quick interrogation revealed that one had kicked the other's sand castle over and a little brawl ensued. Now that the sixth graders weren't hoarding the sand pit all to themselves as of late, the younger students had been taking advantage of it. It only took a moment to settle the disagreement, and the usual gang of six friends sighed in relief as the two kids walked away from their scuffle. That was the third fight they had separated between younger students, but at least the fourth graders and up were being unusually cordial. Even Lawson of all people seemed to be in a funk and toned his attitude down a bit, whether it was intentional or not. The six decided on a round of kick ball and made their way to the black top to wait their turn. Though everyone was back to playing games, the past couple of weeks had been a bit of struggle at Third Street Elementary.

When the news of King Bob and his parents was told to the fourth, fifth and sixth graders, the following days were very somber. A good amount of kids didn't even show up, and while he wouldn't admit what he and his parents talked about to his friends, TJ imagined that those kids were having similar days as him. Lessons had returned to the normal routine and the staff and teachers seemed somber and less strict. The kids could probably have gotten away with a lot had they tried, but no one seemed in the mood. Even TJ of all kids wasn't keen on playing pranks lately.

One day the sixth graders had even called all of the students to meet at Old Rusty, where they announced that 'for the good of the playground and to restore harmony', they had elected two sixth graders - Jeremy and Jerome - to be temporary 'princes of the playground' until further notice. TJ supposed it was some kind of attempt to bring normalcy back to Third Street, and though the sixth graders said it was to restore the balance of the playground, he could tell it obviously wasn't working too well.

Close to a week after TJ's class was told of the news about King Bob and his parents, they were sitting in class when a new face walked in - a substitute teacher. They had a small handful before, but Ms. Grotke was almost always in class. Then they realized there were actually quite a lot of faces missing from the faculty. Principal Prickley, upperclassmen teachers and even Ms. Finster. The next morning their usual, favorite fourth grade teacher stepped into the class and was instantly receiving a barrage of questions about where everyone went. Ms. Grotke tried to say as normally as possible, maybe in an attempt not to distress anyone, that the funeral for Bob's parents had taken place the previous day. TJ wasn't convinced by her act, and he felt bad for her… his teacher wasn't used to or any good at hiding her feelings. "However," she said in a slightly more hopeful voice, "I can say that your friend is out of the hospital and starting the road to recovery!"

"Did you get to see him?" Ashley Q asked, and TJ had the feeling that she asked to be nosy.

"Briefly," Ms. Grotke explained, "I didn't want to intrude too much. I even think he may be able to come back to school before the end of the school year. And he says thanks to everyone for all of the cards he was sent!"

Later that same day, when the final bell rang and everyone stood to get their things together, Gretchen felt a little tap on her shoulder, and turned to find herself looking at Ms. Grotke. "Hey, Gretchen, can I ask you to stay after class for a moment? It won't take long."

"Of course" Gretchen said enthusiastically. "I actually planned to ask you about extra credit opportunities!"

She told her five friends not to wait on her and to call her house after dinner if they wanted to hang out, then walked up to where her teacher was erasing the chalkboard. "Yes, Ms. Grotke?"

"Well, I actually had a bit of a favor to ask you," the older woman said as she turned to face her student. "And I want you to know you won't hurt my feelings if you aren't up to it, but… I wanted to ask that if it is the case Robert returns to school, would you be willing to help him with the work he has missed? I know that you're more than familiar with the material and have tutored students much older than you."

Gretchen was quite aware she was capable of tutoring an upperclassmen (she was even members of science and math clubs in high school for fun), but was still surprised by the request. And she was actually quite flattered. "Yes! Definitely! Do you really think it'll be that long for him to come back?"

Ms. Grotke fiddled her hands together. "Well, maybe. From when I taught him, I know that Robert is a pretty smart guy, but it's not necessarily the work load I'm concerned about. I think it would just help to have someone around who can not only help him work and know the material. But maybe someone to encourage him as well. It's just an idea. I just thought you'd be perfect to help. I've seen that you're a great friend in addition to being a great scholar."

"I can try, ma'am," Gretchen said, almost blushing. "But we weren't really friends. More like… acquaintances."

Ms. Grotke gave her student a little squeeze on the shoulder and smiled. "Well, it's worth a try, isn't it?"

Gretchen told herself that she would keep her promise to her teacher and try, though she was very skeptical. As she had said, she wasn't friends with King Bob, but knew enough about him that he was probably too proud to accept help from anyone - let alone a fourth grader and the resident school nerd. He didn't even know her name, Gretchen was just used to being called "smart girl" when he addressed her. However, she only told her closest five friends and tried to be as discreet as she could about the matter, quietly asking the sixth grade teacher for a copy of the class syllabus as if it was a secret mission.

In the meantime, here they were finishing up a much deserved game of kickball. It was TJ and his friends versus Lawson and his crew. The freckled fourth grader found himself having the most fun he had in some time. As much as Lawson was crude and competitive, at least TJ could say he was fun. Spinelli was tackling kids, everyone was breaking the rules left and right, but at least they were having fun and both sides were having a good laugh (of course Lawson was taunting them the whole time on being cheaters… as he cheated). In the end, the game wasn't even finished or remotely kick ball anymore by the time the final bell rang. TJ was helped up by Gus, they both had grass stains on their clothes and skin, but even Gus didn't even seem to care.

He guessed everyone just had something they had to get out of their systems because of how weird things have been. That was when Phil from their class ran up to their group as they all walked down the field back to school. "Hey! Did you guys hear?"

"Hear what?" Gus piped up.

"The Ashley's heard one of the sixth grade kids talking about it in the hall! King Bob is back in school! He went to class today but had to spend recess in room 501."

X

Bob's eyelids felt like they weighed pounds as he slowly woke up.

Some faint slipping memory told him that this wasn't the first time he felt on the verge of reaching consciousness.

He couldn't recall falling asleep, and he was becoming more and more aware of a throbbing in his side and how sore his neck with, and that was aside from feeling like he was hit by a train all over. He slowly woke up and looked at his blurred surroundings. Everything was white and clean, and a stack of machines behind him beeped softly. He had never been in one before, but had seen enough shows and movies to know he was in a hospital. But why? Then it hit him like a ton of bricks and it was as if he had all the strength in the world, shooting up in the bed and frantically tearing at the IV in his right arm, his breathing erratic. The machine beeped loudly.

That's when the nurse ran in, a tall and thin young woman, and she tried to push him back into bed by the shoulders. "Robert! Robert, calm down, you're okay! You've been in an accident. It's alright, you're sister is here!"

It was like she wasn't even there, he still struggled but was losing that burst of energy. His voice sounded rough and it hurt to talk. "Where are my parents? Are they okay?"

Then he recognized the next person dashing in - his sister, Sheila. Bob felt his muscles working against him and finally managed to settle down, sitting up on his elbows, but he was shaking and it was exhausting. "Sheila? Where are mom and dad? You look awful."

Sheila Porter was only twenty-two but she looked years older and sickly with dark circles under her eyes, and her usual tan, olive toned skin had paled. She made a sound that sounded like half of a relieved laugh and a sob, and threw herself on him. "Look who's talking," she said, muffled by her death grip of a hug. Bob sucked in his breath, his side was screaming in protest and his muscles ached. He was still shaking when he tried again with a croak, "Mom and Dad are here too? Are they okay?"

Sheila pulled away from him and she was wincing as if in pain, her normally pretty features strained. This was not the sister he knew. "Bobby. Mom and Dad… they're…"

Bob waited anxiously. She took a deep breath and tears were running down her face. Her voice was breaking, and he suddenly understood what she was trying to say. He just blinked. "No."

But she just cried harder. Bob felt a sinking sensation in his whole body, but his head was telling him it was just Sheila playing another one of her bad jokes. "That's not funny, Sheila!" he said louder and angrily. "Quit it!"

The nurse he forgot was there mumbled quietly, "I'll send for the doctor." and stepped away to leave them alone. The sixth grader sitting in the hospital bed couldn't find his voice anymore. He had the idea that some kind of bad joke was being played on him, but his head was just a fireworks display of the pain happening in his body and concepts of his parents that he couldn't fathom. An image flashed in his head - his mother lying in the road in a broken heap, and then he remembered the last look his father gave him in the rear view mirror of the car and he felt the sudden need to throw up. Bob realized he was panting, he couldn't tell if it was from the sharp pain in his side or what he was being told, and he realized his face was wet. Any second, he kept waiting for his mom and dad to walk in, maybe a little bruised up but laughing at the bad joke Sheila was telling him. He didn't realize that at least 20 minutes had passed with them like this, when someone walked in - an older man with a nice face and clean white coat. He cleared his throat. "Glad to see you're awake, Robert."

Bob didn't answer, and didn't look up from the spot on the bed he stared at when the man pulled up a chair beside him. The doctor said some nice things that Bob didn't listen to, and he numbly sat and barely comprehended what the doctor was telling him, just a few words occasionally being processed: surgery, trauma, transfusion, laceration, that he was "lucky".

Bob was hardly aware it was himself talking when he said quietly, "Sheila, get me out of this place."

"Out of the question, Robert," the doctor said quietly but sternly. Bob realized that he suddenly didn't like his doctor. "I'm very sorry for your loss, but you will need to remain hospitalized for at least a week while we monitor your condition. As I'm sure Sheila can explain to you, funerals can be postponed until you're able to leave."

At that statement, Bob's breath started heaving and the machine began to beep frantically again. The doctor stood and put a hand on Sheila's shoulder. Bob heard him say something to her about the next steps for recovery quietly, and then he placed a hand on Bob's shoulder as well. The sixth grader flinched and wouldn't look up as the doctor told him sadly, "Please get your rest. I'll get you out as soon as I can."

X

The following days were just a hazy blur.

Sometimes Bob caught himself staring at a single tile on the hospital ceiling, his eyes dry from not blinking. Sometimes he didn't realize the people around him were people that he knew. Everything hurt, and he just kept pressing the button the nurses told him to press when it hurt. He recognized his grandparents, who fussed over him and loudly complained to any hospital personnel that he needed real food, and an aunt and an uncle who he normally only saw a few times a year. He saw his sister the most, and sometimes she would come in with stacks of letters in her arms and say that they were all for him. But his parents never came. He just wanted to leave. He didn't like it when the nurses would come in and check on him, and how they would always tell him how lucky he was. There wasn't anything lucky about what was happening.

When his doctor - who he still disliked - came in, Bob finally made a small effort to listen to what he was told. The doctor remarked on how surprised he was that Bob didn't have a severe head injury, or broken legs. Bob hazily remembered putting on his hockey helmet before everything went black, and how he leaned back to put his legs across the back seat. The doctor then explained that because of what was probably an adrenaline rush after the accident, when he tried to free himself from the wreck, Bob had severely cut his hands on glass pulling himself out of the car. The huge bandages on his palms confirmed this, and he was told that he'd probably never have the same amount of sensitivity in his hands ever again. He was black and blue all over, and had multiple cuts and lacerations to his skin and face from flying glass and car parts. He had bad whiplash, but once again, was "lucky" to not have damage to his spine. The worst of the accident was the debris that had punctured his side. It was a piece of scrap metal that came unattached in the accident, and at some point he had fell on it at just the right angle, the doctor presumed. It only scraped a few organs but had buried itself beneath his ribs and into his right lung, breaking some ribs in the process. It was the collapsed lung and massive blood loss that called for the helicopter, which Bob could hardly remember. And though the surgery was over, it would take weeks or months for him to truly be back to his normal self. He listened to his doctor explain this as simply as he could as if not to scare the preteen, but Bob could hardly comprehend that this is what had happened to him. He knew that everything hurt. He saw how his side was ugly shades of black, purple and yellow around the clean white gauze where the surgery happened. One day when they peeled back the gauze to show him and his sister how to change the bandages, it made him almost nauseous to see the huge stitches and dried blood, but it was as if he watched it all as an outsider.

Then one day Sheila came in, carrying in her arms some of his old clothes, and she looked especially pained. He was no longer on the IV and was only there for observation when she sat down next to Robert and placed the clothes in his lap. "It's time for you to be discharged. We need to be at the funeral home in three hours."

"Funeral home?" was all he could croak. He still struggled to speak, and he understood what she seemed to imply, but his head still reeled. The week has passed so quickly and almost like a dream.

"I'm sorry," she said, and sniffled, leaning forward and rubbing the spot between her brow and eyes in a way that looked painful. "I'm sorry. But they can't wait any longer. The family can't wait any longer. You can rest afterwards… we just have to do this."

Bob could hear nurses chirping in his ear as well as his sister's on their way out. How to take care of himself. Numbers to call. They wanted him in a wheelchair but he snapped and refused, causing a bit of a scene, so they instead directed their nagging to his sister to make sure he would rest and not stand too long. They looked very displeased with his decision. The car ride from the hospital was a series of blurred images as Bob let his forehead rest against the window. He knew he had grown up in this town but it looked almost alien this time. Then he realized he was home. Sheila walked around the car to help him out, and he tried to swat her hand away, but then felt his heart pounding and the difficulty of breathing. He could hear her regretting not using the wheelchair. When they were inside, Bob almost yelled out, "MOM, DAD, I'm home," as he usually did but his throat suddenly felt sticky. He and Sheila stood for a moment at the inside front door as if they both had the same thought. "Well," Sheila said in a high pitched voice, "I guess I could make you some real food. Get ready."

She set off towards the kitchen at a fast pace, and her hunched shoulders showed she was trying not to cry. Bob leaned against the banister of the stairs for a moment. He looked up at the entrance that led to the dining room, where his dad would usually walk in to answer his call. But it was just an empty hall. There was the sound of claws scraping against the wooden floors as a dog enthusiastically rounded the corner whining and barking in excitement. The dog was mostly considered Bob's pet, considering the puppy was given to him by Dettweiler as a 'present', but had grown considerably. The German Shepard that Bob had named Molly still looked like she had some growing to do with her large and floppy paws, and she had clearly missed her owner. Bob tried to kneel to pet her but his aching side protested. Instead he slowly made his way up the stairs despite the pain, Molly trying to help by putting her wet nose in his hand. When he came back, he was in all black, just like how his sister told him to dress. The multiple bandages on his face, arms, and hands contrasted with the dark outfit. Sheila had made all kinds of grilled veggies and pita, but when they both looked down on what would normally be appetizing food, Sheila grabbed her stomach and said, "I'm not hungry."

"Yeah," Bob agreed quietly. "Me neither."

Their grandparents arrived soon after, and it was another blur of a car ride. Bob felt his side really beginning to ache and he was becoming dizzy. He was going to a funeral that shouldn't be happening. Their car pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot, and Bob suddenly seemed to realize that this wasn't a joke. He put his hands in his hair and his head between his knees in the backseat. "This is not happening. This is not happening."

There were tears running down his face. Bob never cried. He had flashes of his parents in the car before his world was turned upside down. He felt Sheila shift next to him and put an arm around his shoulder, but he could feel she was just as uncertain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but we have to do this. We couldn't wait longer."

He could hear his grandmother cursing, wishing that he would have more time to heal before this happening. They waited until he could breathe again, and he insisted they wait until the red left his eyes. In the back of his head he realized that it was stupid to wait until he was done crying, considering where they were going. He clutched his side as his pain swelled and his sister jostled a pill out of an orange bottle. "Here," she said, handing it to him with a bottle of water in her purse, "It's your prescription, it'll help that."

Bob was glad that his sister gave him the medicine.

Everything was surreal. First he and his immediate family were in a small room. He tried to ignore the closed caskets to their side… those weren't his parents. His head was clouded and his sister and grandparents made sure he was sitting the whole time, while family members shuffled past. They spoke to him, and wished him well, but their words didn't register. He just felt numb again. He was surrounded in a room full of people who spoke of him but he might as well have been alone. A man came in and quietly told them it was time.

The service seemed like an eternity that was cut too short. Bob looked around absent mindedly in his haze, he saw that the room was crowded. There was a short sermon by a priest even though all traces of Catholicism had left his family with his great grandparents... he thought about how his parents would've been bored too death listening to a sermon and he found himself staring at the two caskets. He was never so aware of his pulse thumping in his ears and the draining feeling in his body. This was actually happening. But he couldn't cry.

Eventually the attendants came to give their respects to his parents. Bob might have been embarrassed or self conscious when he saw familiar faces outside of his family coming to the front, but nothing seemed to matter. He saw his principal, and thought of all the times his parents had spoken to him since he first started at Third Street. His current sixth grade teacher was there. He was surprised to see Ms. Finster, who spent a very long time paying her respects, and Ms. Grotke. He always liked Ms. Grotke the best of all his teachers at Third Street.

He barely heard her when she quietly said her condolences. He realized she had asked him a question, and he looked up at her and blinked. "The cards from the students," she said again with a smile. He could see the pity in her eyes. "I just wanted you to know that we're all thinking of you."

"Oh. Right. Thanks," Bob rasped, but he hadn't touched a single one.

Next thing he knew, everyone began leaving the room and he was being told that there would be another car ride. He didn't especially want to be in cars as of late but begrudgingly, he piled into a nice car with his sister and grandparents. They drove in a succession with other cars, police leading the way with their lights flashing. The destination was a cemetery, and though he usually found cemeteries to be somewhat relaxing with their stillness and intricate statues, this time it made him feel sick. The car slowly pulled to the side of one of the paths, and they were out and moving. Sheila kept a hand on his shoulder to make sure his pace was slow, but he wouldn't have been able to move much faster anyway. He felt his throat tighten when the two closed caskets came into view beside two rectangular holes in the ground.

A handful of the attendants who were in the funeral home solemnly stood beside the caskets. There was a cloth cover to keep the area under shade. He dully noted that it was far too pretty of a day for this. Under the shade, his family found seats as everyone else stood. Again everything was hazy, and a basket full of white flowers was passed around. Bob realized what was coming and what the little white flowers were for. It was going to be the last time he saw his mom and dad. He hated himself for being embarrassed that his eyes were getting wet. He kept his head down and bit his lip hard as everyone silently passed him and softly tossed their flowers. His grandparents went first, and then Sheila, and he knew he was next. His legs were shaking as he stood. This wasn't happening. He looked down on the dark wood of the caskets that shined in his sun and the little white flowers softly flitted to rest on top. He felt sick and his chest was tight, when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was his grandfather, who helped him back to the seat.

Again the attendants shuffled over to the family and said kind words, but Bob hung his head low and couldn't look them in the eye. He heard car doors shutting and people driving away. Just feet away from him was his mother and father, and he still couldn't understand why this was happening and how quickly it was. He'd never see them again. Sheila turned to face him when all the guests were gone. "It's time to go."

Bob looked up at at where the caskets rested and blinked. "Can I stay a little longer?"

He gingerly picked up one of the flowers from the basket and held it gently. He decided he would keep it. Sheila also lowered her eyes. "Yeah. That's fine."

They sat in silence as the groundsmen began working on filling the graves.

X

 **A/N** : Clearly my plan on having a few short chapters isn't going well… this might turn out to be longer than what I had planned.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Creedence and Clearwater played on a stereo sitting in the grass next to the driveway and soft breezes rustled the leaves in the trees as Bob practiced for the hockey team. He had taken a break from taking shots and was now practicing tricks with the puck; throwing it up in the air and catching it at the last minute, bouncing it like someone might do with a hackey sack but with the stick. He wasn't necessarily as graceful as he could be, being used to skates and the smooth surface of an ice rink, but anyone who didn't have an eye for that kind of detail would still be impressed with his reflexes. He let the puck sit flat on the stick, then brought it up in a swirl, the momentum causing the puck to stay still, and then with a flick sent it bouncing against the outside wall of his garage. He barely caught it in time and grinned to himself in success.

"Bobby! What did I _just_ say?"

His mom wasn't happy with him using the house as a back board, and she could hear the loud smacking sounds through the kitchen window. There were already chips in the outside paint from the hundreds of other times he did the same move. "Sorry, Mom!" he called, focusing on trying to flip the puck onto its round side. "Won't do it again, promise!"

The track he was listening to transitioned to 'Born on the Bayou.' While Bob thought that some of the music coming out these days could be pretty catchy, most of it was hard on the ears for him. Ever since his fourth grade teacher found out about his opinion two years ago and introduced him to the classics, he had become quite an avid listener. Bob wheeled around on his rollerblades, balancing the puck, thinking about the tryouts coming up. He was confident he would make the cut, but still had nerves. His current coach told him all of the time that he was impressive for his age and was always their fastest player... just making the team while beginning middle school was especially important to him.

Bob was so into his thoughts he didn't see the car approaching, and he jumped when a horn blared. His sister pulled into one side of the driveway, the belt in her older model car squealing. Sheila immediately hopped out, wearing huge sunglasses and grinning at him. "Aren't you jumpy today! Gotta keep you on your toes."

"You didn't scare me," Bob lied, and bounced the puck against the wall of the house a second time. Their mom yelled again, the annoyance in her voice clear.

"Really, Bobby?" Sheila said with a roll of her eyes. "Leaving mom to do dinner all by herself? I don't even live here any more and I help out more than you do."

He could tell by her smirk that she was only half serious, and she walked into the house. Normally everyone would help out with dinner, his dad especially insisted on it ("Real men know how to cook" is what he always said), but Bob was more concerned with practicing for the tryouts and getting his form just right. It was only moments later that a second car approached and pulled into the drive. Bob was out of room to skate, but moved into the grass and still did his tricks. His dad got out of the car, returning home from work at the local brewery. "Hey, kid," he said with a smile. "Wow. You're getting really good at that!"

"Thanks!" Bob cockily smiled. "I'd show you how I catch it off the house but Mom would come get me."

"Yeah," he father answered, "There's only so many times you can get away with it. Hey, try it on that tree over there!"

The two walked over, Bob clumsily with his skates, and he did a wide sweep of the stick. The puck clicked and bounced, and he had to extend the stick out all the way and correct in order to catch it. His dad whooped and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Nice! I think you've got it handled! I know you'll make the team, but for now, your mother is waiting… let's go inside."

It was when he realized that he was shaking from the cold that Bob came out of his head. The memory immediately faded and his reality was white bathroom walls and using all the hot water in the shower. Climbing out, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It looked like he had been beat up, stabbed, and ran over twice. Bob replaced the bandages just how the nurses showed him, got himself dressed and dragged himself to his room. He took one of the pills to take the pain away, and his dog Molly immediately hopped into bed with him and gingerly laid beside him, able to tell that her owner was hurt.

He had spent most of the prior two weeks in bed. Dreaming seemed to be the only thing to look forward to. Sometimes they were disjointed and nonsensical, sometimes he didn't dream at all, and other times he'd hear the sound of crashing and wake up with his face wet and side throbbing. Sheila seemed okay with him sleeping for most of the day, she just kept telling him to rest and get better. Between her new apartment and their parents house, she seemed to be at the latter more often. One day when Bob was absently sitting at the kitchen table, knowing he should eat but was not hungry at all, he had a realization. "Don't you normally have class right now?"

She was organizing her server's apron at the kitchen counter, making change. She looked very thin. "Normally, I would. I don't go anymore."

"But you'll get in trouble," he answered. Lately, his voice sounded close to slurred from the pills he had to take.

"I dropped out," Sheila replied far too quickly. "School can wait. I picked up more hours and I'm training at the brewery now, so I'll be gone most of the night, too. I'm sorry, I would've told you yesterday but you need your rest."

Bob blinked and didn't reply. He didn't know much about working a job or even going to college, but could tell her decision wasn't what she wanted. A part of him was guiltily thankful he'd have more time to himself: lately his sister would almost constantly monitor him to make sure he was taking care of himself, and it was very unlike the sarcastic and snide Sheila he had grown up with. So he spent most of the week just with Molly, and his friend Anthony from the next town over came to spend the night once. He normally would have used the time alone to goof off, go to town on all the junk food and try to sneak in an R-rated horror movie, but instead he found himself in bed or vacantly staring at a TV screen while not paying attention to the shows. He tried playing fetch with Molly a couple of times but ended up having to sit down. The dizziness was slowly getting better but not fast enough. He thought of the doctor telling him it could take months.

That's when he realized things he didn't consider before. Was this going to affect him playing hockey? He obviously couldn't be on the team this year, but would this be a permanent problem? He thought about Third Street for the first time. He was the king of playground, so he had no idea what condition it was in after being gone for almost two and half weeks. He wondered if anyone was worried about him, recalling the stacks of get well cards, and then remembered he didn't truly have any real friends at the school anyway. He tried to envision himself back in the throne. He wouldn't even be able to climb to the top of Old Rusty - doctor's orders… or lift a backpack with all of his books in it. And then he thought about all of the school work he was missing, and the possibility of being held back a grade. The thought mortified him, that he'd be the first King to be held back a grade. By the rules of not being able to be king for two years in a row, he'd just be some normal kid. Bob felt himself getting very nervous at the idea. He decided then that he'd go back first thing in the morning, whether Sheila knew it or not.

And anyway, this empty house was beginning to really get to him. Every morning he expected to wake up to his parents in the kitchen, and every time he faced the empty room, it felt like he was going crazier each time.

X

TJ really hated math.

Ms. Grotke was showing them how to convert fractions to decimals and vice versa, but he kept glancing up at the clock on the wall. Last recess was in ten minutes, and he was ready to get his trouble subject over with. He looked around the room at his friends, who looked just as unenthused. Gretchen had mastered this subject probably years ago and even looked bored to death. The teacher noticed him looking around the room and not at the lesson, and he got called on because of it and managed to say the right answer. Ms. Grotke wouldn't have given him too much trouble for it anyway.

A little paper football flicked on his desk as soon as she had her back turned, and TJ snatched it and quietly opened it.

 _Prank on Ms. Finster at Recess?_

He recognized Spinelli's handwriting and smiled. TJ could stand to have some pranks back in his life again. He immediately began drawing up some plans on his notes until the bell rang and they all raced out to the playground. Kids ran past the six friends- the diggers to their holes, swinger girl to her swings and hustler kid to the tree he could always be found loitering at. They all gathered around TJ who had pulled his notes from his pocket.

"Alright, here's the plan. Today, we're gonna get Ms. Finster distracted in the cafeteria, so all the balls will be up for grabs. And then… whomping Bobulla."

TJ had been excitedly talking about his plans when he caught sight of something behind them. First he thought he was looking at a new bigger kid at school.

"Is that King Bob?" Vince asked to no one in particular, gaping.

The sixth grader was still one of the tallest kids in their school and towered over TJ but looked smaller without his signature crown and jersey. He wore a plain white tee shirt and dark jeans. Bob was walking way too slow as if it was a struggle and was carrying a school book in his hand. When he went to sit in the grass next to the chain link fence, TJ could see even from far away his teeth grit in pain as he held on to the fence and lowered himself down. Immediately sixth graders descended on the king, carrying the usual throne that they carried him around in. The fourth graders were speechless as they watched Bob wave them away, clearly looking frustrated despite his sickliness.

"Man," Gus said quietly. "It looks like he got hit by a car."

"Cause he did," Spinelli said. "Why won't he go to his throne?"

TJ started walking over. "Come on, let's say something."

He could hear Vince protest 'you can't just walk up to a guy like that,' but TJ didn't care. After the whole incident where him and Bob were constantly trying to prank each other, it seemed like he saw TJ as more than just some random kid. He had even taking to calling TJ a 'crazy monkey boy,' which was seemed strangely endearing coming from the king. Kids who seemed to finally realize who it was sitting in the grass suddenly looked down and quickly moved on as if afraid, but TJ and his friends still approached. He got a weird feeling in his stomach as they got closer.

King Bob was a haughty, oftentimes pretentious and intimidating person. He always looked down on people from his throne like he was going to get angry at any second, and usually did. But now, the fourth grader made eye contact and he wasn't that person anymore. TJ heard Gretchen suck in a breath like she was just as surprised. The king of the playground had little patches of gauze on his face and all over his arms, and some small cuts and bruises weren't covered. Each hand had a thick bandage around the palms. His left cheek was still purple from a healing bruise and his messy black hair barely covered another on his forehead. It looked like he had thinned and paled a bit and he had circles under his dark eyes. But it was the exhausted and expressionless look he gave TJ that unsettled him.

The fourth grader couldn't find his words for a second. Then he raised his hand in a wave. "Hey, King Bob! We're really glad you're back!"

They didn't get a response for a second, Bob just eyeing them vacantly with slightly dilated pupils.

"I can't fix the playground right now," was all he said, his voice monotone. "I have homework to catch up on."

TJ felt very bad. "Hey, uh… we're really sorry. About everything. Are you okay?"

He got the same evaluative stare, and then Bob opened his book and leaned back against the fence slowly. "I'm fine."

That's when Gretchen stepped forward. "King Bob, it's been suggested that if you need any help on catching up with school work that I lend a helping hand! I know all about the sixth grade curriculum and-"

"Thanks," Bob answered and didn't look up from his book.

They could tell he didn't want to talk any more. TJ cleared his throat awkwardly. "Okay, well, uh… if you need anything, just let us know!"

The six awkwardly shuffled away in silence, finding their way to Old Rusty.

"Geesh," Spinelli said under her breath. "Try to help a guy out…"

TJ leaned against the old jungle gym with his hands in his pockets and felt himself get defensive. "Both his parents just died Spinelli, give him a break."

The shorter girl looked offended and folded her arms across her chest. "I know that, I was just trying to break the obvious tension. Yeah, I'm glad the guy is okay, and yeah, I think I would be pretty messed up if it happened to me so I get it."

TJ felt bad for snapping at his friend. Spinelli was feisty, but of course she wasn't that mean. He mumbled an apology, and the six exchanged glances. "Maybe today isn't the best day for a prank after all," Vince announced and everyone agreed. TJ kept glancing over to King Bob, feeling really sorry for the guy but not knowing what to do. He clearly didn't want to be bothered, even to the point of not wanting to be the king for a day. That was basically his whole identity at Third Street. The friends used the remaining time of recess to stand in line for a game of four square, playing a little more unenthusiastically than normal when their turn arrived.

When the bell rang to go inside, TJ caught a glance at Bob once again refusing help from his former henchmen to get up. Jerome and Jeremy looked extremely unsure and uncomfortable. The rest of class that day seemed to be pretty normal - boring to TJ. There were only so many subjects that he liked. When the final bell rang for the day, everyone poured out of the front door to meet the waiting buses, parked cars of parents, or to head down the road to the nearby houses. TJ only lived about a fifteen minute walk from school, and his group of friends lived relatively close as well, so they could all walk together.

"Alright," Vince said, trying to break the silence, "In an all out brawl between the X-men, who would win?"

"Does that include the Brotherhood?" TJ asked.

That occupied their conversation for awhile. TJ was a Wolverine advocate, Gretchen chose professor X of course, and Spinelli insisted Juggernaut would destroy them all. Gus was convinced that if Captain America could travel to the Marvel universe, it would change the entire battle. Hearing Vince and Spinelli get into an elaborate debate on whether Magneto or Juggernaut would win put a smile to TJ's face as the gang slowly departed, everyone turning onto their respective driveways or streets. TJ and Spinelli were just a couple houses apart and had a few more minutes together.

"Any plans for the night, Spinelli?" TJ asked, the two kicking a rock down the sidewalk as they marched.

She gave a shrug. "Nah, not really. Dinner with the parents and whatever they wanna do."

That wasn't the first time she had given that explanation in the past couple of weeks. TJ knew she normally liked to hang out in her room, either watching wrestling or drawing while listening to the grunge music she wasn't allowed to have. "Hey, uh," TJ began, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. He wasn't good with apologies. "Sorry I kind of snapped at you on the playground."

The smaller girl shrugged again, kicking the rock. "Nah, it's fine. Wasn't that funny of a joke looking back on it."

"So, it sounds like you've been spending a lot of time with your parents doing stuff." TJ said. "Is that what you meant on the playground?"

The girl widened her eyes for a second. She hated it when she didn't look tough. "I guess. Ever since they found out about King Bob's parents. I guess I wanted to see them more, too."

TJ nodded and said a little quietly, "Same."

It felt good to finally say something about it. Even if he and Spinelli never really talked about anything like this. They reached his house, and she stopped for a second with him. "Do you ever really think about things like that?" he suddenly blurted.

She raised an eyebrow. "Like… what happened to King Bob's parents?"

"Yeah. Like people you care about?" he stammered, not even sure where he was going with this.

Spinelli seemed to think on it. "No, not really. Not before… but now, a little. I don't want to though."

"Yeah, me neither," he replied and felt pretty awkward. "I guess I could say I'm pretty lucky."

She gave him a quizzical look, but then smiled a bit. "Yeah, me too."

"Night, Spinelli."

"NIght, Teej."

And she turned around and jogged the rest of the way home. TJ smiled to himself a little. He didn't expect that conversation, especially with Spinelli, to make him feel better. He turned around to head inside and meet his parents.

X

Bob lived close enough to school that he could walk, and what normally would have been a ten minute walk turned into twenty. The dark haired boy was getting extremely frustrated. Despite having made quite a bit of progress since he arrived home from the hospital, he still had to stop twice and take a breather because of getting dizzy. He didn't want to be late on his first day back, but he also didn't want to be seen passing out on said first day either. If Sheila knew he was walking to school she would've had a fit. Still, he took a deep breath and slung his backpack over his shoulder and continued, ignoring the sharp pains of his body. At least he left very early.

He wore a plain white tee shirt and dark jeans. His favorite Jersey and crown was lost somewhere in the process of the car wreck. So when he walked on to the school yard, with no crown, scepter or jersey, no one even seemed to notice. He kept his head down anyway, not wanting anyone to see how he was struggling to breathe normally. It was when he sat down in class as one of the first people to arrive he realized that it wasn't going to be the normal day he had hoped for.

His sixth grade teacher, Mr. Lee, was getting some things together on his desk when he happened to look up. The older man's eyes widened immediately. "Robert! I - I had no idea you would be back!"

Though there were only a small handful of kids in the room, Bob felt himself sink into the chair a little. Everyone was staring, and he still didn't even have his breath back quite yet. "Yeah, I uh - was ready to come back."

Mr. Lee seemed to give him a hard, judging look and walked closer so the whole room couldn't hear. "Robert, you don't look so good. Does your family know you're here?"

"Yes," he immediately lied.

The teacher looked to be thinking hard, and then just gave a stiff nod. Bob could tell he was thinking about kicking him out of the class, or wanted to say something more, but replied, "Well, you're quite behind in work. We'll just continue the lesson today according to the rest of the class and you and I can catch up and talk at recess."

As students filed into the room, everyone gaped and stopped to talk to him. To the other sixth graders he was a peer as well the king of the playground, so it was a little less formal as the other grades would have addressed him. His old 'advisors' and 'henchman' practically swarmed him, demanding to know how he felt and if he was going to make it, acting as if he would keel over any second. Bob just sank lower and lower in his chair, very self conscious of how battered he looked with all of the bandages. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. "Guys, I uh, I'm fine."

Still they persisted and with a flash of annoyance he snapped to leave him alone. It worked, and they all shuffled to their seats, whispering as the bell rang. Bob felt his face go red, he couldn't tell if he was angry or humiliated. They all knew what happened to him and his parents. He saw the stacks of letters that were at the hospital, and he became very aware of how his life was on display. Still, as promised, Mr. Lee gave a brief announcement to welcome Bob back and then plowed straight into the lesson, which Bob was relieved of. They were learning the basics about the three branches of government, then moved on to the scientific method when they changed subjects. When the bell rang for first recess, Bob waited behind like his teacher asked him to. It was the first of many times he would be fussed over that day.

Mr. Lee asked him a million questions about his health. He wanted to know if a doctor gave him permission to be in class, because according to him, Bob looked like he was on the verge of passing out. The sixth grader internally agreed, but insisted he was fine. He was sent to room 501 for the first recess… where kids with injuries spend their recess when they can't go out. It was also home to the resident nerds who wanted to stay indoors. Bob just took one of his school books down with him and ignored the stares from the other kids. It would've been nice to go outside and actually see the sun for once. Mrs. Finster came down at one point and gruffly interrogated Bob on how he felt, as if looking for a reason he should be home and in bed but didn't get an honest answer.

When the bell rang after twenty minutes to go back to class, Bob took one of his pain pills before moving. In the halls he tried to ignore the stares and whispers. Another class session ensued, where Bob realized that writing with his injured hands was much more difficult and painful than it should be. The intercom in the room clicked on and the voice of the school secretary, Mrs. Lemon, could be heard, "Mr. Lee?"

"Yes?" the teacher asked, pausing his lesson.

"Principal Prickley would like to see Robert Porter during lunch."

Her gravelly voice made it sound like she had been smoking all her life. Mr. Lee gave Bob a glance and a little nod. "Thank you, Mrs. Lemon."

Bob heard a couple whispers behind him and tried to ignore it. It was frustrating to say the least, and even he felt self conscious. He hadn't felt this way in Third Street all year being the king. So when the lunch bell rang, Bob made his way down to the Principal's office rather than the cafeteria. He briefly realized maybe it was better… this way not all of the grades below sixth could take a look at him in the cafeteria. He knocked on the wooden door, and walked slowly inside. He had moved around more today than he had all week, and his side was really beginning to ache.

Principal Prickley was waiting for him, kicked back in his arm chair. Bob didn't fail to notice the look of alarm on the older man's face when he took a look at the student. "Hello, Robert. Take a seat."

Bob did, sitting opposite of the principal. Prickley reached down into a plastic bag and pulled out what appeared to be two wrapped sub sandwiches. "How are you feeling, Robert?"

"I'm fine," Bob said, and he finally started getting that loose feeling he would get after taking one of the pain pills. It seemed to make him relax more.

"Hungry?" The principal asked, and tossed one of the subs his way.

Though he could feel how empty his stomach was, Bob had no appetite whatsoever. "No, thanks. Um. Why am I here?"

Prickley unrolled his sandwich and took a huge bite. "Well, it looks like you can stand to eat. You've gotten thinner. You're here because I'm worried about you."

Bob exhaled and didn't reply. Prickley put his food down and leaned forward. When he glanced up Bob saw genuine worry and concern in his principal's eyes. "You know, one time I played golf with your dad."

Bob blinked. "What?"

"Well, I tried to," Prickley managed a chuckle. "I think he hated it a little bit, but liked the beers afterwards. We got the idea after a PTA meeting. A lot of kids don't realize how close you can get to their parents when you've known them so long."

Bob clenched his hand on the chair and his chest tightened. _You better not cry,_ he told himself and swallowed hard, thinking about his dad. "He thinks… _thought_ that golf is stupid."

"I know, but I tried," Prickley said with a sad chuckle and then nudged the sandwich a little closer to Bob. "Seriously, you need to eat something. You don't look good. I've had multiple teachers come to me today about you and everyone is worried. You may not realize it but there is actually a process for a student to come back to school… and I know you came here without telling your family."

The sixth grader tried taking a bite just to humor him and his stomach flipped a little, but he choked the bite down with a grimace. It was more than weird talking to his Principal like this, let alone over lunch. "I just… wanted things to be back to normal."

"Son," Principal Prickley sighed. "I can't imagine what you're going through. You are far too young and much braver than most adults I know to go through what has happened. We just want to make sure things are done in a way that's best for you."

Bob gave his principal an evaluating stare. He had always seen this person as someone who was out to ruin fun, who didn't care about kids at all. But the Principal in front of him seemed genuine and Bob felt a kind of trust for the first time with him. "We called your sister," he went on. "And you can stay here for the rest of the school day, I think you deserve that. But there are some rules to cover. First, you need to look after your health. No crazy stunts on the jungle gym. And do you have any prescriptions?"

Bob fished in his pocket and retrieved two bottles. He passed them over silently and watched Prickley read the labels and shake his head. "This is some strong stuff for a kid. I won't take it away from you today, but from now you need to give to the school nurse. She'll give you the dosages… please try to eat, you're not making me feel better."

Bob obediently took another bite and ignored the nausea it gave him. "I'm not going to be held back a grade, am I?"

Principal Prickley managed a small smile. "I don't think that's necessary at all. Well, aside from the sandwich is there anything else I can give you?"

He thought for a minute. "I'm tired of being stuck inside," Bob said. "I don't want to go to room 501. Can I go outside for next recess to do my homework?"

"You know the rules," Prickley said, but then hesitated after looking at those sad eyes. "Well, fine. I think that's okay. No monkeying around though."

Bob spent the rest of his lunch with Principal Prickley, slightly uncomfortable being in his office, but at the same time he felt the most relaxed he had felt all day. He didn't really talk much, just slowly ate and listened to his principal talk about what he had missed on his days outside of school. When the bell rang, he was reminded again not to get too crazy at recess. It wasn't as if he physically could, anyway. The sixth grader went inside to grab one of the books he was behind on and slowly made his way out - the sun was almost blinding. The hazy feeling that came along with his pills was in full effect, not only dulling his pain but as well as the need to care. It made talking to his old guards easier as he shooed them off. He opened his book and thought to himself that they seemed to be doing just fine with Jerome and Jeremy taking his place.

He realized that Dettweiler and his crew were talking to him and looked up. The six kids looked apprehensive and he could see them judging his current state. Bob answered their questions dismissively. He just wanted to be left alone. He was exhausted physically and mentally drained and just longed for his bed. He spent the rest of recess alone.

He couldn't be any more relieved when the last bell rang, ending the school day. Bob slowly got up and made his way down the already emptying halls. He immediately spotted Sheila outside leaning up against her old car.

Bob walked over, exhausted and prepared to get chewed out, but she only looked at him hard through her sunglasses, then climbed inside. "You should have told me you wanted to go back."

"I didn't know," was all he said quietly as she started up the car and wheeled away from the school.

He wasn't looking at his sister but could hear her sigh. "It's fine. You just gotta work with me from now on. And look, we have to talk about some important things."

The dark haired teen winced. He was done thinking and done talking for the day. "I'm just ready to get home. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

She paused and drummed her fingers on the wheel then answered. "Yeah, that's fine. But we _have_ to tomorrow."

They drove the rest of the way home in silence.

X


End file.
